Florui
by Adnachiel
Summary: Beauty & The Beast crackfic using CT3 characters and OCs, uploaded here for formatting. I warned you.
1. Prologue

_**Florui**_

_Disclaimer: All _Clock Tower 3 _characters included herein belong to Capcom. Lucifer belongs to everyone and no one, as does the storyline of "Beauty and the Beast". Please, enjoy._

**Prologue**

Brierfell lay quiet in the snow, sleeping under its blanket the ponderous slumber of enchantment. Drifts grew thick about its walls and crept upon the gate; the thick white crust expanded slowly, icing occasionally, and beneath lay a carpet of leaves. The gardens spread thick and tangled, unkempt and strange with no human hands to tend them. The forest crawled ever closer, inch by inch as the years went by—first vines over the outer wall, then seedlings dropped over by the wind and rain and precocious branches. Slowly it reclaimed the edges of the manor grounds, erasing from sight the touch of human work upon the landscape as surely as the inhabitants of the manor had gone from local memory.

A few things remained the same. The hedge maze, though unruly, kept its paths and byways, its twists and turns and false ends—even the easily-missed shortcut to the very heart of it, though the fountain had stopped running, too clogged by leaves and roots and weeds to produce clear water. The walls of the manor house itself remained sturdy, no door or window breached, as though the touch of nature could not quite set its diaphanous hand upon its stones. And in the circle just before the door…

The roses always bloomed—or rather, at no point during the year were the bushes and canes completely devoid of life. In summer the circle of thorned plants grew riotous with color, every one imaginable for a rose, and the scent lay thick and heavy on the drive. They bloomed early and persisted late; only the withering touch of winter could truly tame the Brierfell roses…but even in its coldest depths, a single plant clung tenaciously to vivid life and color. Most of its buds proved an ivory white, shamed by the snow but lovely nonetheless. There was, however, in the very center—at the top—a single red, red rose which seemed to bloom eternally. It never dropped its petals, never shriveled or drooped; it proclaimed its defiance to the skies in snow or sun, accepting dew and ice alike upon its face.

For eighteen years Brierfell lay sleeping under sun and snow, that single rose defiant above the rest and the cold iron gates locked and chained against all comers—though no one came. Somehow, in those short years the world forgot the manor and its grounds, the people who lived there and the tragedy which ultimately closed its gates. It lay both pristine and wild behind the intricate iron and the rose crest, its picturesque beauty never interrupted by human figure—nor beheld by such.

Lacking witnesses, there was no one to see the shadow on its grounds, no one to hear the angry screams or the splashes of blood and gore upon the grass or autumn leaves. The single inhabitant of the grounds roamed them restlessly and alone, never still, never sated, always angry. The whispers in the house could do nothing to assuage its rage and impotence, locked as they all were in the manacles of the enchantment which lay thick upon them all. Sometimes it came in; often it did not, abandoning the twisting passages to stalk the encroaching woods and enclosed grounds for days on end. How it filled its days then none of them knew; when inside it only paced and clawed.

For eighteen winters, it left only footprints in the snow. Then, inexplicably, the chain fell from the gate and things began to change.

_Author's Note: If you don't like OCs, don't read this. It's half drabble and half serious idea—not meant to coincide at all with the CT3 mythology…an 'AU', if you will, a semi-original crack fiction from my head and from those of my friends. I'm uploading it here for formatting reasons, nothing more. If you were looking for a serious CT3 fic, please look elsewhere because this __**definitely**__ isn't it. That said, thank you for reading…and here's to hoping I can actually __**finish**__ something for once._


	2. songbird at the window

_**Florui**_

_Disclaimer: All _Clock Tower 3 _characters included herein belong to Capcom. Lucifer belongs to everyone and no one, as does the storyline of "Beauty and the Beast". Please, enjoy._

**One – songbird at the window**

"Katrine, can you come here and work on this dough for a little while? Lady's near to tearing hair out over those primroses and the Master's asked her special tea made. C'n ye do that alright?" The strident voice—not unpleasant in its tone, simply harried—broke Katrine's reverie where she stared out the window, the mending in her hands forgotten as her mind wandered; the girl started, doe's eyes going wide for a moment before she scrambled to look like she hadn't just been staring uselessly at nothing. At the heavy wooden table, Sharyn shook her head and smiled, apparently amused rather than angry at Katrine's idleness.

"Thinkin' on some lad, eh?" She prompted with a sly grin, which widened when Katrine's face flooded with color. At this point the brunette had already sprung up, mending dropped haphazardly into its basket, to rinse her hands in the basin, and for a few moments Katrine simply occupied herself with the mechanical motions.

"…you know I haven't got time for that," she replied finally, hands suitably clean for working the bread. Sharyn shook her head and wiped her own hands on her apron, flour still streaking the myriad creases and wrinkles at her broad knuckles, and stepped around her younger serving counterpart to fill the kettle and place it on the stove—already hot from the oven beneath, dinner slowly cooking for later. The older woman laughed softly to herself.

"There's allus time f'r that, girl. Turnin' eighteen this autumn and not even a sweetheart, dear me; they work ye too hard in this household." The gently scolding tone wrung forth a sigh from her companion; Katrine shrugged as she worked, hands folding and kneading the stubborn dough with practiced motions.

"This is a much easier place than I could have secured, and we've discussed this before. Hardly any menial labor, and Miss Alais sweet." Her eyes never left the heavy pat in her hands.

"Aye, and rarely lets ye out on y'r own t'boot! Th' lass is darlin', I'll admit, but how much'v the village have you actually seen since you came here six months ago?" It seemed Sharyn wasn't going to drop the argument and Katrine sighed, resting for a moment as she pursed her lips.

"I know my way around."

"Ye know y'r way 'round where th' lass takes ye, y'mean."

"I've been a few other places!" Katrine's tone took on a defensive note as she protested Sharyn's claim, her wide gaze going up to meet the woman's broad back. The cook shrugged and chortled, laughing quietly as she neatly mixed pinches of various blends together in a little basket and pulled down the Lady's tea things. Seeing Sharyn so unaffected by her claims, Katrine turned a little red again and began to beat the bread dough with new vigor. "I have! The blacksmith's, and I've been to see the woodsman a few times—"

_That_ got Sharyn's attention. The cook stopped and turned to stare, her eyes gaining a hard and suspicious glint. "And what've ye got f'r an excuse to go'n see that miscreant, missy?" She demanded, hands going to her hips in great fists. Katrine stopped and stared.

"Master Richard wanted wood prices and Marcus was busy. It's perfectly alright for a household servant to go inquire—"

"Inkry's got nothin' t'do with it!" Sharyn burst out, glaring hard at the now wilting younger servant. "You stay _away_ fr'm that man, miss, 'e's nothin' but trouble an' 'e's _dangerous_. Get 'is attention and y'r askin' t'borrow trouble. Now go on 'n finish that bread, there's a good lass." Piece said, the cook turned her back on Katrine and went back to work, saying not another word on the matter as though it was settled.

Taken aback, Katrine stared for a few more moments and then returned to the task before her. The kitchen fell relatively quiet for several moments until Sharyn appeared suddenly at Katrine's elbow, waving her away with broad, floury hands and a smile. Having fallen into a lull while working the dough, Katrine startled and jumped sideways, only earning the good-natured laughter of her companion and friend. The older of the two chuckled, worn face creasing in a grin.

"Off with ye, then—the Lady needs her tea, and th' lass'll be lookin' f'r ye. Y'c'n bring 'er some o' th' sweet rolls from the oven, if y'like."

Katrine laughed and collected the tray with the Lady's tea things after scrambling to put a small plate together for Miss Alais, rinsing her hands clean once more at the basin under the window. She paused for a moment to smile at the little robin perched on the sill, waiting for crumbs both Katrine and Sharyn were wont to scatter there when the baking was done; the bird preened for a few moments and then, disappointed at the lack of morsels, flitted away. The girl closed her eyes, dried her hands, and removed her apron—revealing a plain but clean dress—before neatly collecting the tea things and the plate of sweet bread to take up into the house proper.

Thankfully it wasn't a long trip; though Katrine had put on some muscle since coming to work for the well-off merchant family, she wasn't strong enough to bear the heavy tray and the thick plate alone for much of a distance. On slippered feet she padded quietly through a few servants' halls and out onto the wooden flooring of one of the main corridors, listening for the sound of voices as she passed various doors. The house wasn't as large as some others, as Master Richard's father had only recently made his fortune and had opted to build more conservatively, but it was well-designed and comfortable. There were plans to build extensions, but at the moment the family was so small there was no need.

Eventually she could hear the Lady's raised voice in the drawing room on the sunnier side of the house and smiled to herself, despite the sharp notes she could hear. The Lady wasn't mean-spirited; she simply got carried away sometimes, and especially when it came to her flowers. Trying to remain unobtrusive Katrine knocked first—the tray and plate arranged carefully on one arm and hip—and waited to receive permission before entering the room, never looking directly at the imposing woman standing imperiously at the window.

"Ma'am, your tea—"

"Yes, yes, set it there would you," the Lady answered absently, waving her hand in Katrine's general direction. In addressing the servant the woman's voice grew noticeably calmer, though it regained its irate needling the moment she leaned out the open window to berate the gardener for yet another transgression upon her precious primroses. Katrine hid a smile and set the tea tray down, quietly going about pouring a cup for the lady. This she took and set upon the thick windowsill within reach—though far enough away to avoid its being knocked onto the rug—and retreated, head bowed in respect and hands folded neatly before her.

After a moment the Lady sighed imperiously and turned around, fixing her icy gaze only briefly on Katrine before seizing the cup of steaming tea and raising it to her lips. She sipped carefully, testing the temperature, and made an indeterminate sound in her throat, though she said nothing for several long moments. Only after she'd set the cup aside again did she speak to the servant waiting to one side.

"Excellent, as always. My compliments to Sharyn. You may leave now—off with you. My daughter will likely be looking for you." She sounded weary, but her voice warmed at the mention of her daughter, and a few moments later she strode forward and sat down on the couch to finish her tea in peace. Suitably dismissed, Katrine collected the plate of sweet bread and quietly exited the room, now going in search of the reason she'd been hired to the household in the first place: Miss Alais.

It took considerably longer to locate the much less predictable girl, as there were a number of places about the house she liked to frequent and there was no telling which one she was likely to be in. Katrine supposed she was lucky the sweet bread was still warm when she tracked down the erratic younger girl—today in her chambers, excitedly attacking a mess of flowers which might be considered a bouquet, in another life. Katrine hid a smile as she knocked on the doorframe, balancing the tray on one hip.

Startled, the taller, white-haired young woman spun around to see who had interrupted her, blue eyes opened wide and innocent as flower petals scattered all around her and fell down her skirts. The surprised look quickly faded into an open grin, however, and in moments Katrine was seated in front of the dressing table while Alais excitedly explained her latest project, punctuated by gestures with a captured roll of sweet bread. The serving girl did her best to pay attention as her friend chattered on, returning to the spray of flowers with a gusto punctuated only by sweet-bread breaks, but Alais chattered a mile a minute and, for the most part, it faded a little as Katrine lost herself in her train of thought.

Alais had never treated Katrine as any less than an equal and a friend—a fact Katrine appreciated. Though Alais' parents were kind, they held themselves somewhat aloof. This was somewhat in spite of the fact neither of them were, in fact, noble, whatever the Lady's nickname might be; the Master was a wealthy businessman whose father had made the family fortune in shipping, and had carefully passed on the estate to his only son. Alais' older brother was in line and set to follow in his own father's footsteps, but he was a busy young man and Katrine rarely crossed paths with him.

"—and in any case Lady and I are going into town in a few weeks and I thought _maybe_ this time you'd let me—"

Katrine jumped, startled out of thought by a passing mention in Alais' narration. A familiar prickle of shame crept over her at the fact Katrine hadn't been able to keep up with her friend's chatter, though Alais was also prone to long periods of contented quiet, but Katrine had no time to indulge in self-castigation. She cleared her throat and reached to hesitantly touch the younger, slimmer girl's shoulder in an effort to draw her attention.

"Town? You and your mother are going into town? Isn't that…isn't that quite the journey? Is your father going as well?" If they went, it meant the whole household might be transplanting for the season. Though the family in general wasn't wealthy enough for such extravagance on a regular basis, Katrine herself had in fact been hired during one such occasion, in which the Master had relocated the entire family to town while he embarked on some lengthy negotiations over favorable trade conditions.

Should it happen again, it would give Katrine a chance to see her own family for the first time in months—though it didn't seem likely, as the last occasion had been fairly recent.

Having halted mid-sentence, Alais took one look at Katrine's face and slumped slightly. Though the older young woman tried to hide it, the spark of hope in her eyes spoke enough for Alais to realize what she had unintentionally brought up, and now had to quash. She swallowed; she hadn't meant to set her friend up like this, and setting her down again would hurt them both. So, instead of coming right out with it, she fidgeted.

"Ah, well…" Her fingers began to twist the delicate stem of a violet, bruising its leaves; after a moment Katrine plucked it from her and gently set it aside, understanding shuttering her gaze. Alais shuffled from foot to foot, gaze downcast. "Father needs to stay here, but…Lady would like to go to town again and she invited me along. She says you're needed here at the house, though…"

Katrine smiled, the gesture gentle and forgiving…and at the same time masking the flush of disappointment. What had she expected? Such journeys were costly, and Lady had a maid of her own whose sole purpose in the household was to attend to her. Today she had simply been on errands, or else she would have been the one to deliver Lady's tea. There was no need for a simple housemaid to accompany them, despite her unique position in the household as a sort of grown-up playmate for the otherwise isolated daughter of the family. To hope for inclusion on the trip was presumptuous, Katrine knew, and in an effort to spare Alais any ire the brunette chastised herself silently for such impudence.

"That's quite alright…although I hope you wouldn't mind bringing a letter to give to my family?" Her smile turned a touch wistful. The post worked well enough, all things considered, but Katrine trusted her friend to see the missive delivered directly to her family. Her mother's letters always contained anxiety and worry for her middle daughter—the one she couldn't readily provide for, with two others and a son to fund—and Katrine hoped to allay her fears with a hand-delivered letter explaining how well the family treated her. Alais, glad to be let off the hook, grinned broadly and nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course! Lady wants to consult your mother anyway for her opinion on some home remedies she picked up in the village…" And Alais was off again, this time explaining the excursion upon which her mother had collected said 'remedies'. Katrine tried not to roll her eyes.

The town here was surprisingly superstitious, despite the presence of an accomplished doctor who had apparently removed himself to the village in order to escape 'the pressures of the city'. He was young and the target of many a determined mama in hopes of winning a suitable husband for her daughter, but the man seemed rather uninterested. His winsome features and slight hint of a foreign accent also had all the young ladies agog, including Alais, but thus far had shown special interest in none of them; he was too busy attempting to dissuade the village of its superstitious bent, an uphill battle even at the best of times. Katrine could only pity him; she had encountered a similar situation right here in the manor house. Between the Lady and the servants a veritable hotbed of mysticism had sprung up, and no amount of lectures on the progress of science and medicine had served to convince them otherwise—not that Katrine had ever presumed to lecture the Lady. She had no wish to be thrown to the street, sent home in disgrace to her mother.

A mother, however, who would probably deliver the well-deserved lecture should the Lady ever visit her clinic. Katrine withheld a smile, attention diverting back to the flow of Alais' chatter. She was surprised to find it had gone far beyond some farmer's moon-cure for joint pain, passing into some sort of local legend Katrine hadn't yet heard about.

"—and_ roses_, Katrine, like you've never seen, they say: ones that even bloom in winter! I'd love to see that, I really would, and even colors roses don't usually have, you know, like in those special hothouses in town they're developing? Of course you can't even get _in_ they say, not since the curse set in, but _I_ bet if you just say the right words or—"

"What _are_ you talking about?" Katrine tried not to sound too exasperated, though Alais was used to it; upon discovering that Katrine had a quick mind and a wicked tongue when prompted enough, Alais had quickly forced her to dispense with the proper decorum between classes and encouraged her friend to speak freely, as Katrine did now. Alais, caught off guard, blinked owlishly for a moment.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of Brierfell! Six months in this village and nobody's said anything? Shame on them." The pale blonde pouted for a moment, totally oblivious to the fact that Katrine hadn't had a lot of time to venture into the village—Sharyn's lecture now came to mind—before a smile popped onto the girl's face and she launched into the tale all over again. A wicked grin soon took hold as the narrative progressed, such as it was.

"_Well_, there's supposedly a haunted castle or something in the woods, and that's why most people can't hunt very successfully there and nobody but the woodsman goes in after dark—they're too afraid of the shadow-beast that lives there! Apparently a long time ago there was a lord who lived there, with his wife and daughter, but the wife died and a few years later the daughter died in a terrible accident. They say he cursed the place and has prowled it ever since, eating anyone who dares venture inside the forest after dark to assuage the awful hunger his guilt created for being unable to save his wife and daughter!" Alais leaned forward a little, waiting for a reaction on Katrine's face.

The brunette burst into laughter. Alais reverted to her pout again; she'd been hoping for a flicker of fear, even a hint of trepidation or hesitation on her friend's face. Neither of the sort appeared, although Katrine looked well and truly amused. It took several moments for her to calm down enough to respond, and she wiped her eyes to clear them of the few stray tears that had wet the corners of her eyes in laughter.

"A haunted _castle?_ Alais, please, there aren't any _castles_ here. You'd be able to see it over the forest, and the village would be much closer to it—towns grow around castles! Besides, magic doesn't exist—and neither do shadow-beasts or cursed lords." The smile remained, and Katrine well and truly sounded amused, rather than condescending; as such Alais only shook her head in exasperation.

"One of these days I'll prove you wrong, Miss Skeptic, just you wait and see. Maybe I'll even find Brierfell and tame that beast just to really make you squirm. Anyway I—"

The clock chimed. Both girls jumped guiltily, and Katrine quickly gathered the remains of Alais' small repast to take back to the kitchen. The meal was fast approaching and Sharyn needed Katrine's help in the kitchen, which they both knew. In any case the moment had come and gone, and with a soft farewell Katrine vanished down the hall to take her place back in the kitchen, leaving Alais alone and crestfallen, feeling a strange sense of foreboding tickling the hairs at the back of her neck. The flowers drooped a little in their vase, forgotten as Alais stared thoughtfully out the thick panes of her window at the darkening forest outside.

* * *

_Author's Note: If you don't like OCs, don't read this. It's half drabble and half serious idea—not meant to coincide at all with the CT3 mythology…an 'AU', if you will, a semi-original crack fiction from my head and from those of my friends'. I'm uploading it here for formatting reasons, nothing more. If you were looking for a serious CT3 fic, please look elsewhere because this __**definitely**__ isn't it. That said, thank you for reading…and here's to hoping I can actually __**finish**__ something for once._


End file.
